


Reasonable Expectations

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [58]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: After Renji's ordeal, he makes his way back to the Sixth slowly and, unexpectedly, runs into Captain Outoribashi.  Meanwhile, Byakuya prepares for war.





	

Renji felt punch-drunk. He hadn’t thought that the Tenshintai had affected him that much, but he hung on the pronoun-obsessed interrogator like those skinny-ass shoulders were the only thing keeping him upright. 

“You don’t seem like you’d be strong enough to bear my weight,” Renji slurred a little, as they took a small breather on the long, rain-spattered staircase that led down to the main street.

The rain had brought out the smell of earth, loamy and fecund. Buds greened the edges of bare branches, softening their hard, cold, winter lines. The sun felt warm on Renji’s face, but his breath still misted with each exhale.

“Bet you’re some kind of part-time ninja, huh?” Renji prompted with a playful poke in the chest.

The interrogator looked annoyed with the added physical interaction. “Fitness is a requirement of every sub-group under Captain Soi Fon’s administration,” he said with a little shrug, made awkward by Renji’s arm over his shoulders. “Besides, you’re walking better than you realize, Acting Captain. You could probably loosen the vice-grip you have on my neck.”

Some small vindictive part of Renji squeezed just a tiny bit harder, before saying, “Just get me to the street, pal.”

The streets around the Second were surprisingly empty of people. Those that did pass, hurried their steps and pointedly did not look up towards the Division. Renji glanced at the interrogator to see if he’d noticed. If he did, it didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe it was normal to be feared like that when you were in the Second? It sort of made Renji sad for the guy--except, yeah, no, only briefly. These ninja torturers brought it on themselves.

“I guess I’m not the first guy to stumble away from your Division, eh?” Renji said it lightly, almost jokingly, but, even so he was gratified to see the muscles in the interrogator’s jaw tighten.

“You should be fine here,” the interrogator said, prying himself out from Renji’s arm. 

Renji nodded. It was clear that the interrogator expected him to head off. Instead, Renji carefully lowered himself down onto the steps with a sigh. The cold, wet stone felt good on his aching muscles. Yeah, resting here for a few minutes was a good idea. 

The interrogator watched Renji settle down with a disapproving frown. His hands went to his hips and he pursed his lips, clearly holding back some commentary. If the interrogator said anything, Renji was ready with a comeback. ‘Cuz if they didn’t want folks recovering on their doorstep, maybe they should stop fucking torturing ‘em.

Perhaps sensing Renji’s words in his expression, the interrogator just shook his head and quickly moved back up the stairs with a last little sniff of condemnation. His sandals made soft pit-pats on the stone as he jogged upwards.

Renji rested his arms on his knees. He’d removed Zabimaru in order to sit. The zanpakutō rested against Renji’s stomach, comfortably nestled against silk and skin. 

“And you and I, we bicker all the time,” Renji mused to Zabimaru. “What’s it gonna be like for Byakuya, huh? He ain’t used to Senbonzakura talking out of turn.”

The baboon king grunted sleepily. The snake tail hissed, _Their bond isss ssstrong, too._

Renji nodded. Probably he didn’t need to worry about the captain. He and his Senbonzakura had weathered many things, particularly lately. Renji never would have expected Byakuya to allow Senbonzakura to roam free like he did. Sure, they were avoiding being forcibly separated in the Maggot’s Nest, but still. That was a lot of trust from Byakuya. 

_In the same situation, you would let us go_ , the baboon king noted.

Renji chuckled, “Yeah, but you wouldn’t need my permission. I know you can manifest while I’m unconscious. I hope you would just go, if you needed to. I trust you to take care of yourself. Him and Senbonzakura, though… I dunno. They seem more master and... “ Renji couldn’t bring himself to say ‘slave’ so he just shook his head. “I guess, more traditional is all I’m saying.”

The only sound from Zabimaru at that was another noncommittal grunt.

The wind pushed at his topknot and Renji glanced up at the street again. Other division entrances tended to be crowded with vendors trying to catch the custom of the Shinigami who worked there, but the wide broadway that the interrogator dumped Renji in front of was like some kind of no man’s land/war zone. The residential rowhouses directly across the street were shuttered, looking abandoned. There was that tavern a few blocks down, but right in front of the Second, it was a dead zone.

The forlorn street reminded Renji of the barren strip between the gates of the Seireitei and the Rukongai. The only difference was the green. The hill behind him was deeply wooded. In contrast to the street nearly silent of human activity, birds chirped noisily and the wind rustled branches. 

Renji rubbed his face. If the Tenshintai knocked him back this hard, he was going to have to be prepared to carry some people back to the Division. He chuckled a little at the thought of Kinjo hanging on to him, piggy-back style. 

But, no one was going to carry him right now, unfortunately. With a heavy grunt, Renji pulled himself to his feet. Every muscle ached. Damn, how did Ichigo manage to fight after this? That kid really was one seriously remarkable guy. 

After tucking Zabimaru back into place, Renji limped forward--though it wasn’t so much as a limp, per se, as a painful shuffling of feet. The houses he passed remained shuttered and forbidding. For so late in the day, the street was hauntingly empty. Didn’t people around the Second have jobs?

When he finally saw people on the street, they were queued in front of a shrine. 

Shrines and temples were not terribly common inside the Seireitei. Renji knew there was a fancy temple with a broad courtyard and big wooden torii gate in the First Division’s neighborhood. He’d gone to that one for New Year’s a few times to listen to the bell toll and eat buckwheat soba noodles. But, little alleyway shrines like this were unusual. 

There wasn’t much in the way of a gate, just two poles had been stuck into the ground. A string strung between them had colored ribbons attached. When Renji saw what people were leaving the shrine with, he figured he must have crossed the line into the Third division’s territory without realizing it. Fried tofu and inari-zushi were favorites of Inari’s guardians, the kitsune. 

Even though his stomach growled, Renji quickened his step. It always weirded him out a bit to eat shrine food. Of course, out in the Rukongai, he’d never turned a free meal away, but it was impossible to forget you were in the land of the dead when offerings materialized at the foot of moss-covered statues. 

Renji remembered the first time Rukia showed him how shrines worked. Of course, she’d travelled with monks, so she knew all the best places. Most of the ones in the lower districts had been abandoned in the human world, so they didn’t see many offerings, if anything. But, once they’d made it up past District Forty-Four, you’d start to see the occasional offerings materialize. Some of them were just burnt prayers, but Renji had been mesmerized by the way they appeared as glowing embers in the air, reforming from ash to paper, and then slowly drifting down to settle at the feet of some god or other. The nicer places got actual food offerings. In the Rukongai food was a big deal, guarded by heavily armed priests, most of whom extorted hefty fees. 

But, there were a few, here and there, that had shrine maidens. At those, if you were patient and lucky, you might get picked to receive the offering. Rukia always shared hers, of course. Renji never understood how she could stand it--watching greedy hands take fingerfuls of rice until she was left with nothing. 

That’s what you got being raised by monks, though. She’d smile during the whole ordeal. Meanwhile, Renji’d snarled and clenched his fists to hold back from punching all the people Rukia wanted to help.

Only thing that made up for it was that she was one of the best thieves he’d ever known. They’d eventually get theirs, stolen off the back of some caravan or, like they were crafty crows, pulled from someone’s unattended fishing line.

At least, here in the Seireitei there seemed to be enough to go around. No one was leaving this shrine empty handed. Not even… captains? Renji blinked and glanced behind him again. Was that… Captain Ōtoribashi waving at him?

Renji slowed his pace and let the captain catch up. “It had to be you,” Ōtoribashi said, after having hastily jammed the remains of the inari-zushi into his mouth as he dashed the distance between them. Rice dribbled down his long, thin chin. “What are you doing in my neighborhood at this hour? Did you hear the shrine bell all the way over at the Sixth, and come running like one of Pavlov’s… er, yes, like one of Pavlov's?”

Renji frowned. Who the fuck was Pavlov? And why did what wasn’t said sound like it might have been an insult?

“I didn’t come for the offerings, sir,” Renji said with a shake of his head and a show of empty hands. “I had an appointment at the Second.”

Ōtoribashi’s eyebrows raised, “You say that so casually. An appointment at the Second is like ‘An Appointment in Samarra.’”

Another reference Renji didn’t understand, but this time he could sense the sentiment. “Yeah, I can’t say it was fun.” 

Ōtoribashi watched Renji curiously, obviously hoping for more information. They were almost the same height--Renji just a hair taller--although the captain’s lean body and loose, lank curls of hair gave off the impression of longer length. Ōtoribashi easily matched Renji’s long strides as they continued on in silence. Renji tried to decide if he was under any obligation to tell Ōtoribashi anything--or whether it was a good idea to share information, captain-to-captain like. Maybe he should let Ōtoribashi know that the Second was searching for Aizen’s post-hypnotic suggestions.

Surely, they’d be suspicious of the Third, what with Kira there.

Renji started to open his mouth. But, it wasn’t just Aizen they were looking for was it? The Second was targeting the Sixth because there were potential rapists in the ranks. That was a dicey subject, especially since Renji still didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do if the investigation uncovered proof of that shit.

“You’re not at all embarrassed, are you?” Ōtoribashi said casually, tucking his arms behind his back as they strolled. “I think I find that deeply attractive about you, Acting Captain-Abarai.”

“Embarrassed? What have I got to be embarrassed by?” Renji asked. Had he done something awkward at the captain’s meeting he didn’t remember?

Ōtoribashi laughed, as though he was genuinely delighted by Renji’s confusion. At Renji’s annoyed frown, he laughed harder. “Yes, exactly,” he smiled, his eyes roaming the length of Renji’s body. “It’s just that some people aren’t nearly as good as you are at keeping their professional and private lives separated. The first time I tied up Kira, he couldn’t keep a flush off his cheeks for days.”

At the reminder, Renji felt the phantom memory of Ōtoribashi’s cool hands on his hot skin--firm, commanding… warning, a second of pressure, grounding, just before the rope tightened, immobilized, exposed….

Blood rushed to all the wrong places, making Renji grunt. 

Ōtoribashi’s grin was telling. “You still haven’t written back. Has Byakuya changed his mind about sharing?”

“Uh…” Renji had to shake his head to clear all the sexy thoughts tumbling through his imagination. “I thought Byakuya wrote back days ago. He was working on his fantasy scenario the other night. I guess maybe he didn’t finish it…?” 

Renji trailed off, so aroused now that he was being tortured by his own clothes--silk of his shihakushō slid over hardened nipples with every breath and every shift of feet. He was sure his whole body was flushed; he was surprised everyone couldn’t see steam misting off him as he walked.

Captain Ōtoribashi smiled slyly, clearly aware of the effect he was having and enjoying it. “Oh? And what did you write, Acting Captain?”

Renji shook his head. How did the conversation even get this personal? They were in the middle of the street! He shifted, pushing away thoughts and ignoring his body. “Not much. I’m not really good at that sort of stuff. You know, pretending and role-playing and like that.”

There was that amused laugh again. Renji couldn’t decide if he hated it or found it charming. At the moment though, it kind of annoyed him because it felt like maybe he was being judged and found ‘cute.’ Ōtoribashi’s words confirmed Renji’s suspicions. “No, I suppose not. It’s adorable how different the two of you are.”

Renji’s burgeoning arousal died. Nothing killed a boner for Renji faster than being called cute and kind of weird in the same sentence. “Um… okay. Thanks, I guess?”

Ōtoribashi raised his hands, as though trying to wave off Renji’s disapproval. “No, no, please, I didn’t mean it that in a bad way. It works for you. I even understand it, intellectually. It’s just that here, in the light of day--” he gestured helplessly, and then shrugged. “I guess I’m just trying to figure you out.”

At some point, they’d stopped walking. Renji rubbed his face to banish the last of his blush. “I ain’t hard to figure out, sir,” he said. 

“Oh? So what makes Acting-Captain Renji Abarai tick, then?”

The front gate of the Third was in sight, just a few blocks down the narrow road. The streets bustled with food stalls being set up and shops opening for business. It was noisy and crowded enough that Renji didn’t worry about being overheard. “I like sex. Byakuya likes sex that way, so we do it his way. Simple as that.”

“Simple?” Ōtoribashi asked. 

There was something in his tone that made Renji hesitate, an edge of seriousness. Why wouldn’t it be that simple? With a shrug, he said, “Yeah, simple.” 

When Renji didn’t offer anything more, Rose nodded as though he’d decided something, “Like I say, fascinating.” 

Renji’s frown turned into a scowl. Of course, he wasn’t being entirely honest with Ōtoribashi, but the captain didn’t need to know about all the missteps they’d made figuring out how to make things work. 

Ōtoribashi let out a dramatic sigh. “Why don’t you let me buy you breakfast, Acting-Captain? If we’re going to be intimate at some point, I would like to get past the part where you glare at me like you want to kill me, not fuck me. Or is this an Eleventh Division thing? Are you flirting right now?”

Renji couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “Nah, that’s just my thinking face, sir.” 

“Breakfast?”

“Sure,” Renji said, “Why not?”

#

Byakuya did something he hadn’t done in ages: he called Eishirō to dress him. When Eishirō arrived quizzically, Byakuya explained: “I plan to see the Yakimura. We must do something with my hair. Something that implies the kenseikan.”

“I believe your father had a piece that he would wear to court,” Eishirō offered tentatively. “It went especially well with the silver and blue owl kimono.”

Byakuya shook his head, “I will wear the headpiece, but I want you to dress me as you would have my grandfather.”

Eishirō understood instantly. His expression took on a hard cast. “I will have the snow-capped mountain kimono taken out of storage. I will be ready to dress your lordship after breakfast.”

Byakuya nodded a dismissal. Breakfast would be for careful consideration as how to extract a confession out of Yakimura. Today would be the end of the clan war one way or the other. 

#

No surprise, Ōtoribashi knew the good places to get breakfast around the Third. Renji would have settled for a sweet potato from a food truck, but the captain insisted on ‘a proper date.’

“We really haven’t spoken much since Byakuya’s birthday,” Ōtoribashi said, settling down across from Renji. 

Surprisingly, he sat cross-legged. Renji would have thought a guy so fine-boned would totally be nobility and sit seiza like a pro. Of course, maybe he’d gotten out of the habit, what with a hundred some years in the Human World. 

“I’d wanted to compliment you,” Ōtoribashi continued. “You took on very advanced submission without much trouble. Byakuya had assured me you would be more than capable, but… well, again, I suppose I let appearances deceive me. I would have thought you’d’ve fought it all the way.”

Renji just grunted an acknowledgement. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway? ‘Thanks, I guess I have a hidden talent for surrender?’ Well, he supposed he ought to be fair. “You made it easy,” Renji acknowledged. “I felt… safe, I guess.”

He’d started to say ‘under firm command’ but just thinking that made his breath get all shallow.

Luckily, the server interrupted further thought. She came over and deposited two bowls of a dark-broth miso. The soup was filled with bits of mushroom and colorful clams. “The chef has nattō with a fried egg or oyakodon.” 

Ōtoribashi enthusiastically ordered the nattō. Renji went with the chicken and egg rice bowl.

“Not a nattō fan?” Ōtoribashi asked after she left with their orders. He lifted the soup to his lips and Renji found himself fascinated by how long and slender Ōtoribashi’s fingers were wrapped around the bowl.

“Uh, I never really tried it, but I’m not up for experimenting with food--not today, anyway,” Renji said, tearing his eyes away and trying desperately to think non-sex thoughts. 

“Ah, yes, the ‘appointment,’” Ōtoribashi made the little air quotes. “Do I even dare ask? I suppose they don’t much need a reason in this little police state of ours.”

“Uh…” Renji was a little stunned by the Ōtoribashi’s casual use of the term ‘police state.’ Given his own recent treasonous activity with Rukia’s rescue, Renji probably shouldn’t bristle, but he kind of did. “Why’d you come back to serve if you feel like that, sir?”

Ōtoribashi lifted his eyebrows languidly. “I believe the only way to effect change is to do so from within the confines of the law.” Then, he laughed at some memory, “Unless you’re Ichigo Kurosaki, of course. But, most of us aren’t, now, are we?”

“No,” Renji agreed. “Probably that a good thing, given how much he busted the place up.”

“Mmm, a little longer and he might have torn it all down, and we can’t have that, now can we?”

Renji very much thought maybe that was exactly what Ōtoribashi wanted.

“So, back to sex,” Ōtoribashi said brightly. “Tell me, Acting Captain, does someone like you, who has told me his pleasure comes from letting go and letting someone else make the rules for a while have any ‘hard no’s? Or do you just roll with everything thrown your way?”

Were they talking sex or politics? 

Either way, his answer was the same. 

Renji glanced around the restaurant nervously. Because they were both captain class, the waitress had seated them in a very private spot, a corner table. Renji had both walls at his back, and behind Ōtoribashi was a ceramic fire pit, set up on metal legs. There was a table to their left, but no one occupied it. “Yeah, of course I do,” Renji said, keeping his voice pitched low, anyway. “But, I’m kind of new to all this stuff, so most of the time I only know ‘em when I hit ‘em.”

“Ah,” Ōtoribashi nodded in understanding. “Even more outstanding! You’re the ‘I’ll try anything once’ sort, are you, then?”

So… they were talking about sex? Renji shrugged, “I was in the Eleventh for over fifty years.”

“Yes, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Ōtoribashi paused for a moment to take another long draught of his soup. Renji wasn’t sure what to with the clams, so he only sipped at his. Ōtoribashi set the bowl down and continued, “I don’t see your former regiment as being very open to… submission. I’d think you’d get ridiculed if you said you wanted a good slap.”

Renji chuckled, “Heh, more like you’d get one if you asked for it.”

“Yes, but who is brave enough to ask?”

“You’d be surprised,” Renji said. After all, bravery was kind of the Eleventh’s thing. People that rushed into the fight tended to stride boldly into most situations.

“Mmmmm, I expect I would,” Ōtoribashi agreed. 

Renji didn’t have much to say to that. Honestly, it was one of the things he’d liked about being in the Eleventh: if you wanted sex, you just had to ask for it. Sure, some of the guys were hung up on being ‘manly’ as new recruits, but after Yumichika knocked ‘em six ways from Sunday, people shut the fuck up about that kind of bullshit. Renji probably would have bottomed before Byakuya--he certainly wasn’t a stickler about who did what--but most people looked at his size, his red hair, and his tattoos and expected him to be the aggressor. 

Renji had always been happy enough to oblige.

The food and hot tea arrived. Both he and Ōtoribashi said ‘itadakimasu’ simultaneously, and dug in. Renji was surprised at the way Ōtoribashi attacked his food. Then, he remembered that the captain was part Hollow. “Does it make you hungrier all the time?” Renji wondered out loud before he could stop himself.

“What?”

Since he’d started, Renji decided to plow on. “Being Vizard. Does it make you hungrier with the Hollow part that close to the surface all the time?”

“The Hollow part,” Ōtoribashi repeated, watching Renji’s face for something. When he didn’t see it--or maybe did--the captain smiled. “You surprise me again, Acting-Captain Abarai. Why, you almost make it sound like you think everyone has a Hollow part.”

Renji gave Ōtoribashi a toothy grin, “Have you seen Hihio Zabimaru?”

“I have not had the pleasure, but I understand you can make a Cero,” Ōtoribashi admitted.

“Eh, we call it Baboon Bone Canon, but yeah, basically,” Renji agreed around a mouthful of chicken and rice. “We’ve got iron skin, too.”

“”We’? There you go again, Acting-Captain,” Ōtoribashi smiled. “You’re an unusual shinigami. I do find that refreshing about you.”

This time Renji did blush just a little. He wasn’t ashamed of his closeness to Zabimaru, but it always bothered him when he overstepped proper zanpakutō etiquette. He should know better, having been Academy trained, but being in the Eleventh had messed that up, too. Lots of the guys there didn’t know what you were and weren’t supposed to talk about, so they’d say shit about their internal world or zanpakutō spirit that would make any other self-respecting shinigami’s toes curl. 

On the other hand, Renji always kind of figured that was part of why people advanced so fast in the Eleventh. Sure, some of it was pure survival, but the rest? It was like any taboo subject. A guy who’ll talk openly about a good masterbation technique might be rude as fuck, but listening in and taking notes could be plenty beneficial all the same.

“Thing I don’t get,” Renji said, taking another sip of the clam-miso soup, “Is how it makes us stronger. Like, you’d think the purer the soul, the more powerful it would be. You know: the cleaner the white, the brighter it shines. But, it ain’t like that at all.”

“Perhaps it is more like the artistic concept of _wabi-sabi_ ,” Ōtoribashi said, after a thoughtful chew of a nattō, raw egg, and rice mixture. “There is wisdom and beauty in the imprecise. ‘Nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.’”

Renji nodded, “Like steel. It’s stronger than its composite parts. One of which is carbon, which is as common as dirt.”

“Well, I prefer an artistic metaphor, but yours works,” Ōtoribashi agreed, though he seemed disinterested, glancing out at the growing crowd. 

Even though Renji really wanted to wonder out loud about why the Hollow/Vizard/Arrancar masks were mostly pure white, with a few exceptions, he let the subject go and instead gave Ōtoribashi’s hand a little poke and said, “I guess you’d rather talk about sex, eh?”

Ōtoribashi grinned. “It’s as though you can read my mind, Acting-Captain.”

“Ah, just call me ‘Renji.’ Most people do.”

“Skipping past the ‘Abarai-kun’ phase?” Ōtoribashi seemed honestly taken aback.

“You’ve seen me naked, sir. Tied me to a post,” Renji pointed out with a wry grin. “I kind of think we can skip to whatever parts we want. I mean, you invited me here to talk about a foursome.”

“Well, there is that,” Ōtoribashi chuckled. He poked his chopsticks at the remains of his nattō. “I despair of it ever happening. I rather think your Byakuya is far too possessive to ever really consent to share.”

Well, that could certainly be true, Renji silently acknowledged. “He was working pretty hard on his letter to you.”

“Yes, but fantasy is one thing. Reality is another. Does he really want to see me touch you?”

Renji’s stomach did a weird tightening thing and his eyes went wide. “Uh… yeah, well.” He had to cough to get the sudden jolt of arousal back under control. “Thing is, Byakuya has a big watching kick. We once talked about how we might get a third so he could watch me top.”

“Oh?” Ōtoribashi set his chopsticks down on his bowl and steepled his long fingers in front of his lips. “Yes, that might be nice. A little freeform for what Izuru and I usually do, but I do enjoy a good show. And you have a lot of interesting tattoos.”

“Yep,” Renji agreed, because, well, why deny it? Ōtoribashi had already seen all of them. “But who knows, maybe Byakuya wants to see what you’d do with two people and your ropes.”

“Indeed,” Ōtoribashi’s smile was a tiny bit sinister in a way that, Renji was surprised to find, made his spine tingle with anticipation.

Renji wasn’t too sure what to say next, so they just stared at each other for several long moments. Renji had no idea what was going on behind Ōtoribashi’s eyes, but couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have Ōtoribashi’s hands guiding him.

“Byakuya will never let me fuck him, though, will he?” Ōtoribashi asked.

Renji shook his head vehemently. “Nope.”

“Ah, well. You’ll be pretty fun to fuck, I suspect.”

“Probably,” Renji said agreeably, with a little shrug. “Ain’t had a lot of complaints.”

Ōtoribashi chuckled. “You’ve had some?”

“Eh, I guess I’m pretty shitty at pillow talk. I fall asleep hard, after,” Renji said. “Snore, too. And glom. I’m kind of an intense snuggler. It gets hot and sweaty I’ve been told, and I’m hard to move once I settle in.”

“You sound like a big softy under that gruff exterior,” Ōtoribashi said, his tone amused. “Are you tsundere?”

Renji rolled his eyes. “Do I start off cold? Nah, man. I come in hot and fast, and cuddle up after. If there’s a word for that, that’s what I am.”

Ōtoribashi sighed. “Adorable.”

Renji stuck out his tongue. “If you want to get laid, you got to stop calling me that.”

#

Byakuya glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Never terribly fond of what he saw there, he was once again disappointed by how youthful and unimposing he seemed. At least his eyes held a certain coldness. 

Though the silk’s richness was self-evident, the cut and colors of the kimono were similarly cold and austere. It sent the right message, even if the body attached felt too slim, too… girlish.

However… somehow grandfather’s kimono fit tightly across Byakuya’s shoulders. In his mind, Ginrei Kuchiki always cut an imposing figure. No one was more broad or taller. Yet… Byakuya shifted again, feeling the slight tug of silk. Yet… somehow, Byakuya had surpassed him. 

“If my lord will be wearing this kimono often, the seamstress will have several adjustments to make. At least I was able to find hakama in his lordship’s size or this would never work,” Eishirō muttered as he readjusted the haori, clucking at where it brushed against Byakuya’s thighs. “Well, it’s commanding enough a look. No one will notice you’re far too tall for it. In fact,” Eishirō said, stepping back to consider, “in the right light, the shortness of the haori makes you seem even taller. I understand why my lord chose this particular ensemble, but if the Kuchiki wants his own war kimono, he should consider having one commissioned.”

“With cherry blossoms?” Byakuya scoffed. “Somehow I suspect I will fail to strike terror into the hearts of my enemy dressed in pink.”

Eishirō made a funny little grimacing smirk like he disagreed, but nodded dutifully. “As you say, my lord. However, I don’t think my lord has truly looked at himself. In any color or style his lordship would be as terrifying as he is handsome.” Before Byakuya could protest, Eishirō shrugged, “Besides, a few strategically placed cherry blossoms along a background of red or white could be quite striking. It is, in fact, long overdue for my lordship to have a signature kimono. One might consider at least entertaining designs from artists. Such a venture could engender much good will towards the Kuchiki name.”

Which we will need after today, Byakuya filled the implication in silently. “As usual, your advice is sound, house steward. Send out requests for commissions immediately.”

Eishirō bowed deeply. 

Understanding that his work was done and that he was dismissed, Eishirō headed for the door. The way he paused there, just at the threshold, however, made Byakuya ask, “Is there further business, Eishirō?”

“It can wait until my lord’s morning business is concluded,” Eishirō said cautiously, “But, the estate has received several requests from Gotei captains for the purchase of Kuchiki businesses located in the areas that fall under their divisions’ aegis. Normally, in my duties as estate manager I would simply deny such requests. However… at least one of them comes from Captain Kyōraku and involves a certain theater…?”

“Ah,” Byakuya said in understanding. The captains must have discussed the theater fire at the meeting. No doubt, it had come as a surprise to many that Kuchiki holdings were not confined to the areas around the Sixth, but instead were widespread throughout the Seireitei. The question would have arisen as to whose responsibility it was to protect the populace should the clan war invade the spaces they normally considered their own to police and secure. “Divest,” Byakuya said simply, quickly reaching a decision. “Divest us of all business that fall outside our own Division’s purview. Let us have no more targets inside the walls of the Seireitei beyond the ones we can, ourselves, defend.”

“Is… my lord being… hasty?” Eishirō’s eyebrows were very high on his forehead.

“No,” Byakuya said firmly, more and more convinced at the soundness of his decision. “Holding on to these petty businesses will only infuriate my colleagues. This is an easy way to appease their concerns. Also, whatever businesses they might gain in this transaction may bring their divisions a little wealth--monies they would otherwise count against the Kuchiki name and grow to resent. Make sure the prices are reasonable, but be tough in negotiations. They must feel they bought these properties fair and square.”

Eishirō’s eyebrows stayed up, but his tone turned from uncertain to deeply respectful. He bowed deeply. “Yes, my lord. It will be exactly as you say.”

“Oh, and if there are captains who did not reach out to us, be certain to offer this solution to them as well. Let this be the bright moment in an otherwise dark day.”

Eishirō never looked up, but Byakuya heard the sharp intake of breath and the solemnity of his terse, “My lord.”

After Eishirō made his leave, Byakuya summoned the captain of the bodyguard. “Just a small retinue, captain, to follow me to the Sixth Division’s guardhouse” he explained. 

“Easily done, my lord,” she said. As she turned to leave, he held her back with a hand.

“There is another matter,” he said. When she’d turned back to standing attention, he let out a long breath. This was not something he really wanted to broach, but it was something he needed to know before he spoke to Yakimura. “Are there, in your ranks, soldiers capable of following difficult orders?” At her eyebrow quirk, Byakuya steeled himself and explained, “Among the bodyguard, are there those who could, if ordered, kill innocent women and children?”

She gasped. “I... “ Taking a moment to compose herself, she started again. “Perhaps. There are a few in our ranks that have been recruited from the back gates, uh, that is to say, who are Academy drop-outs. But… children…?” She shook her head in mute horror. “I’m not certain, my lord, anyone in my ranks could do a job like that. Most sign on because this job is… bloodless, if you understand my drift, sir.”

“Quite well,” Byakuya said. “Very well. Dismissed.”

The captain of the bodyguard seemed a little surprised at Byakuya’s easy acceptance of her refusal, but she made a smart bow and all but scurried out the door.

Byakuya chided himself. He should never have even asked. This was not a civilian’s job. This was not something he could ask of anyone, but himself. He thought, perhaps, however, he’d brought the matter up as a test. A test of himself, of his own resolve.

If he couldn’t say his intentions aloud, how could he ever hope to accomplish them?

It was old school justice to kill a family for a father’s sins, a callback to a darker time. It sickened Byakuya, the idea of such monstrousness, but his grandfather always said, ‘do not threaten what you can not do.’ 

Hopefully, in the cold light of morning and in the face of such horror, Yakimura would be a reasonable man.

If he could, then reason could prevail.

Byakuya stepped out the door to await his guard and prayed for reason.

#

When Renji made it back to the Division, it was nearly lunchtime. Ōtoribashi had insisted on paying for breakfast, saying it was meant to be a date. To that end, he’d asked for a kiss. Renji would only consent to a small peck on the cheek. As he walked under the shadow of the main gate, Renji rubbed the slightly damp spot again. There’d been a fuckload of chemistry that passed between them, and the memory of the way Ōtoribashi’s hair had tickled his nose and the way those hands on his shoulder recalled firm commands… it made Renji burn with guilt. He was going to tell Byakuya all about this, pronto.

Renji’s feet itched to head straight to the estate, but he knew Byakuya’d be in the middle of dealing with the fall out with Yakimura. So instead, he headed to the lieutenant’s office. Shift change wasn’t for another hour or so, and so the place was quiet for once. He put the kettle on for tea. As he waited for it to boil, he leaned against the counter, absently rubbing his cheek.

Nanako stuck her head anxiously around the doorframe. “How’d it go?”

At first, Renji’s guilt had him thinking she meant with Ōtoribashi. But, of course not, she’d be wanting to know about the Second. “Let me grab my tea,” he said. 

Once he had the tea together, he motioned for her in to sit across from him at the big communal table. It was Western-style, and, like a lot of things in the Sixth Division, surprisingly high-end. The table saw a lot of use, but it somehow retained a dark polish on its surface. Nanako looked around, as though wondering if they could have a private talk in the common area, but Renji made a face to let her know it was fine. If people wandered in, let ‘em. Everyone was going to have to hear all this stuff eventually. Anyway, the only other person in the room was Shimazaki, their ninth seat, and she was passed out, snoring on the couch in the corner.

“Well, it wasn’t the straight-up torture I was half-expecting,” Renji admitted. “But, it’s fucking close.”

Nanako’s brown eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

“They’ve got this device that can pull your zanpakutō spirit out. I guess it kind of works like a soul truth serum…?” Nanako looked like she wanted to understand the mechanics, but Renji just shook his head. “Look, I dunno know why or how it works, but it seemed clear Zabimaru was somehow compelled to answer truthfully. I still don’t get how this is going to reveal Aizen’s hand in anything, though. Maybe they’re hoping that those affected by Kyoka Suigetsu will be obvious somehow? Like, they’ll be able to see it on the zanpakutō…?” Renji let out a frustrated breath. “I really don’t understand their methodology, but they must have some reason they think this is going to work. It’s awfully risky otherwise, ‘cuz all I could think about was if they’re planning to go right down the roster, we’re gonna have a lot of people that much closer to bankai.”

_Or that much further away_ , Zabimaru pointed out.

Renji had considered that, of course, because both welder and zanpakutō could feel betrayed and that kind of thing could really fuck-up tender, budding relationships. There was a reason that bankai usually took centuries to develop. Short cuts were fucking dangerous. 

And then there were the unseated, who didn’t even know the names of their zanpakutō… though how that Tenshintai thing would work on them, Renji had no idea. Would it pull out asauchi spirits?

Fucking shit. That was a terrifying thought.

His division was going to be full of basket cases. 

“Or… get completely messed up,” Renji finished his thought aloud, finally. “I got the Second to agree to having a Fourth Division healer on stand-by, and I can be available to anyone who wants me… but, we’re going to have to figure out how to deal with the aftermath of this---well, what basically amounts to psychological trauma.”

“I’m kind of excited to see Hibana, but... “ Nanako stopped, her hands in front of her face. “But I’m kind of sickened that our first face-to-face meeting will be controlled by… someone else.”

“Yeah.” Chewing on that thought for a minute gave Renji an idea. “Maybe that’s one of the components here. We make sure that people sit jinzen and try to have some kind of real talk with their zanpakutō--you know, let them know this isn’t anything they’d condone. Maybe that’d help mitigate the damage...?” Renji really wasn’t sure, so he made a mental note aloud, “I guess I need to talk to Captain Unohana about this shit.”

Nanako perked up, clearly relieved to have some directive, something she could do. “I’ll make the arrangements. When… when do I go in?”

“You know, Soi Fon didn’t say,” Renji noted. “Let’s get our house in order before we start sending people over wholesale. Anyway, we can delay them by sending the captain in next. He and Senbonzakura can handle it. They’ve had bankai much longer than me and Zabimaru. Anyway, that way we’re still complying with the Second’s orders, if not in any kind of real hurry.”

Nanako managed a small smile. “Damn, but I like the way you think.”

Renji tugged his ear in embarrassment. “Well, let’s see if any of it works first.”

#

Byakuya left the Sixth’s guardhouse in a mix of roiling emotions. Reason had prevailed. No children would die at his hands tonight.

However, he now knew the name of his enemy.

And it was far closer to home than he would like.

**Author's Note:**

> OMG I think I'm back. FINGERS CROSSED.


End file.
